


Fate/United Age

by Cayr



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-03
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-26 08:13:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13853643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cayr/pseuds/Cayr
Summary: When a member of the Chaldea Security Organization, Andrew Lockerby, is relocated to the Americas, he finds that a new Holy Grail War is beginning. Yet the stage is not being populated by Heroic Spirits of legend, but rather by various personalities from a world completely foreign to his own, and they aren't all Human. Used to his own weaknesses, Andrew throws himself into the fray with a plan of attack, but finds himself face to face (or face to pectoral!) with a gigantic purple Humanoid with horns. Is this a demon? Can Andrew control his Servant, or will his hubris be his undoing? After the events of Corypheus's assault on Thedas and the subsequent betrayal of Solas, the Inquisition's major players made their own paths throughout the world. Iron Bull passed on from his violent life at some point, and was eager to rest in peace. However, forces beyond his ken or control have pulled his Heroic Spirit out of its rest and thrust it into battle once more. Fighting a desperate battle internally as well as externally, can he work with this strange new ally, in this strange new world, and maintain sanity and reason? Or will the accursed Mad Enhancement of the Berserker Class cause Iron Bull to lose everything about himself?





	1. Chapter 1

Prologue

Andrew, Iron Bull, Kira

 

Part 1: Goosebumps and Raised Hackles

 

As Andrew stepped off the plane at O’Hare, he marvelled at the extravagance paid to him by the Organization. All Magi, even the weakest ones, were treated like kings if they managed to land a position at Chaldea, and Andrew had certainly taken his fair share of advantages from the relationship. After all, if the upper echelon was to be believed, his magical circuits were strange and unusual, and that led to his overall statistics being poor.

Andrew didn’t mind. That he was able to Code Cast at all meant he had access to a world that most people never even heard of. Access to vast archives of information was worth more than a little unfriendly ribbing at the hands of his colleagues. Still, Andrew’s tendency to overreact to even the slightest insult was what had landed him this particular excursion, and even if it was a comfortable trip, it still felt like the punishment that it was.

Andrew chose to eschew the standard limousine provided by Chaldea and instead hailed a cab. He’d be residing at a mansion specifically prepared for the purpose just outside of Chicago, and so he familiarized himself with the brochure provided for him. A maid, driver, and an on-staff chef… interesting. The drive was comfortable, if a bit bumpy, and he expected to get the standard greeting from his…  _ houseguests _ ? Andrew couldn’t think of the right term for them. They were fellow employees, so perhaps that was the right term.

Instead of order, he arrived to chaos. Stepping out of the cab, his duster was barely past the door before a woman in a crisp business suit was shutting the door behind him. Another woman already had his bags, and a third was paying the cab driver and…  _ was that magic _ ? Andrew had never seen such blatant use of mind magic, ostensibly to make the cabbie forget this entire encounter, and as the business-suited woman addressed him, he got the impression that things were not what they seemed.

“Mr. Lockerby, my name is Amelia Shepard. We’ve got a lot to cover before the ceremony, and I need you up to speed as soon as possible.” She was direct, businesslike, and a tad overbearing. In other words, the perfect Chaldea employee, and Andrew already felt like he was back in Antarctica. Her words caught up to him.

“Wait, what do you mean, ceremony? What could we possibly have to cover?”

Amelia frowned. It looked fitting, as if the expression itself was designed with this very person in mind. “Were you not briefed on your flight? Information was sent to your tablet.” Andrew blushed and shook his head. “I didn’t bring it onto the plane itself. I checked it. Why would I need a tablet on my flight to detention?”

The two began the walk to the mansion proper, and as they did so, a flurry of employees moved between the pair and the house itself. Amelia spat out a curse and seemed to grow even more angry. “You’ve landed in the middle of an Event, Mr. Lockerby. The first Servant was detected nineteen hours ago. You’d know this if you had your tablet.” She thrust a sheet of paper at Andrew, who took it and read.

A Servant.  _ A Servant _ ! A female, black, and bald, with an odd assortment of clothing and a face that could rival Amelia’s for Best Face To Be Pissed With. Andrew shrugged. “Okay, so a Servant has been summoned. Why do I care? America has never seen a Holy Grail war, so how do we even know it’s going to be here?”

Amelia’s response was quick and clipped. “The Church has already set up shop in downtown Chicago. They don’t just do that on a whim, Mr. Lockerby.” This last bit was said with derision so thick that Andrew checked the nearby plants for wilting. “We’ve prepared a room for you to summon a Servant, and a ceremony for ensuring a compatible Servant has been set up around it. You’ve got time to settle in and not much else.”

Entering the mansion served as a sufficient distraction for Andrew. The place was abuzz with movement and sound. Men and women of various nationalities, all in the same suits, mulled about between the main rooms of the first floor foyer area. Andrew saw his bags departing up a central staircase that seemed to be right out of a movie.

“Wait, you do realize why I’ve been sent here? You actually think I can win a Holy Grail War?” Andrew adjusted his shirt, a simple t-shirt with generic designs on it, and suddenly felt more underdressed than he ever had before in his life. Amelia nodded. “Your priorities have changed.”

Twenty minutes later, Andrew found himself in a most uncomfortable position. Wearing robes a size too large for his body, in a mostly-dark room only lit by pitiful candlelight, in a summoning circle that seemed preternaturally big… something had clearly gone wrong in his life, or he’d pissed someone off major.

At the appointed time, Andrew began to channel mana into his Mystic Code, a band of sixteen metals fused together, and placed his hand at the center of the circle. Muttering the casting’s words, he felt the power growing within. As it built, his nerves began to scream. Andrew had never summoned a Servant before, had never even  _ seen _ one before, and had certainly never expended this much magical energy in any true casting before.

Finishing the command words, Andrew threw all of the conjured mana into the summoning circle, and braced himself for something to happen. The room  _ exploded _ with power, walls shaking off dust and chips of stone, the floor seeming to buckle beneath him, and the ceiling making some ominous noises. Blue-white energy streamed around Andrew, blinding him and obscuring his vision for several moments. A presence seemed to congeal in the room, and as his vision returned, Andrew looked up at it… and up… and up. 

_ Who did I get? _ Andrew found himself oddly excited at the prospect, until the light began to fade from the room. A gigantic, purple…  _ thing _ stood in front of him. It was naked to the waist, and it had  _ horns _ … and was that a  _ hammer _ , or the shinbone of a  _ giant _ ? As the being’s almost hakama-like pants shifted in a breeze that suddenly felt cold to Andrew, it opened its mouth and uttered the last thing Andrew ever expected a summoned Servant to say.

“Oh, for  **fuck’s** sake…”


	2. P2

Part 2: One Who Thinks

Iron Bull lounged on an extended couch that had been created for this exact purpose. At the time, he had no idea what he was doing, or how he did it. He just thought about having a couch that would support his frame, and then it… was. As he lowered himself onto it, he was struck by how good he felt.   
He remembered times of his life when one wound or another had slowed his steps. Some had done so only for a short time, while others had done so permanently, yet none of those seemed to matter in this place. He soon discovered that things were just too easy to come by here, and even before the being in white approached him, he was already starting to figure out where he was.  
Heaven. It seemed such a foreign concept to him. The Qun had taught him that one makes one’s own world, but he had done so much that flew in the face of the basic concepts of Heaven that he figured any afterlife for him would be harsh and painful. So when something stepped out of a rift as he remembered perfectly how that bar had been in Skyhold, it surprised him a little.  
A being in white. White everything. Now that was just tacky. White hair, white eyebrows… white eyes. A demon? A spirit? If so, of what? White robes, a vaguely feminine form but with enough masculinity to start questions. Iron Bull took these details in even as she spoke, a voice that rang with chimes.  
“The Iron Bull. We welcome you to your home in-between. We have an offer for your afterlife.”  
Well, he thought, there’s at least one question answered. Iron Bull adopted a casual pose, realizing for the first time that he was unarmed. That seemed stranger than the rest of this, he thought, but couldn’t put his finger on why. Still, this being was waiting. “I’m listening.”  
“Existence is a choice, Iron Bull. This is your personal Heaven, and you may reside here forever if you so wish. You can create, here, anything you desire. We would call it a reward for service favorable to life. In death, pleasure.” It stopped, as if it expected him to speak, so he did.  
“Seems a bit easy. There is nothing here to entertain unless I create it. That’s quite self-serving. What are my other options, then?” Arms folded, rippling with strength he remembered from his youth, but not any recent time. He felt energized. Powerful. Young. This excited him, and he was eager to see what he could do with it.  
“Life requires sacrifice. War is inevitable in human cultures. They fight over a powerful artifact capable of granting wishes. They adhere to rules for this war, yet require the use of external forces. We offer you the opportunity to become a force of the world for this purpose. You will know combat again, and death merely brings you back here. You will know life, and you will know others. Choose.”  
Iron Bull considered the offer. Lazy days spent with the vigor of his youth were appealing, as was the thought of creating whatever he desired in such a place as this. Combat, though… the thrill of the battlefield… how could he say no? He sat down on the couch, finally, and stretched out.  
“Sure. Call me when you need to bash some skulls in. I accept your offer.”  
A bright light. A whine that nearly hurt his ears. The sensation of a vacuum, sucking him out of one place and into another. A familiar weight settled on his back. That comforted him, but as reality reasserted itself around him, he realized that the being in white hadn’t meant to give him any rest. The time for fighting was now, and so here he was, in a room he didn’t recognize. He looked down and saw a rather small man, human, knelt in reverence and… was that awe?  
“Oh, for fuck’s sake…”


End file.
